


acqua alta

by PunkHazard



Category: One Piece, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stop in Water 7 shakes up Cheung's world even more than the day he met Mako. His captain's gonna be the pirate king, there's no doubt about that-- but he didn't think his brothers would end up her shipwrights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	acqua alta

The kid is surprisingly calm, sitting placidly against the train's wall with his cuffed hands between his drawn-up knees, shoulders hunched but expression peaceful. Stacker, conversely, can't suppress the thoughts in his own head-- not least of which being that Cheung's hands don't look anything like a shipwright's hands, calluses on his knuckles rather than his palms. That aside, he couldn't be more than fourteen-- the sentence won't be execution, but Impel Down is a horrific enough ordeal for most adults.

Still, he'd confessed, perfectly sure of himself, so there's nothing Stacker can do. His brothers would be hearing about it right about now-- Stacker doesn't want to think about how the younger Weis were ashore while their battleships bombarded Water7, agents arresting them with almost no trouble because they hadn't even known there would be reason to arrest them.

Cheung says nothing for a full hour. Stacker finally caves, kneeling in front of him and meeting a pair of defiant brown eyes. "You're sure you want to do this?" he asks.

"What's the alternative?"

Stacker straightens, returns to his seat.

Not very long after, Cheung jerks, as if he'd just heard or felt something through the rattling of the train. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The train hit something."

He would know; he helped build it. Stacker swallows hard, distinctly aware of the bile creeping up the back of his throat. "I didn't feel anything."

The boy falls silent, but looks unsettled. A few seconds later, the car's door slams open, a rookie recruit charging in to skid to a stop in front of Stacker. "Sgt. Major!" He salutes, then barrels ahead before Stacker can stop him. "Two kids-- they were on the tracks, trying to stop the train. They--"

Stacker practically throws the rookie across the room (he'll apologize for it later). Cheung's already bolting for the open door, but Stacker seals it with a wall of ice. Cheung looks it over once, judging its thickness in a second and then turning on his heels for the window. He presses his palms against the panel, frantically peering outside before he slams the cuffs against the glass, wincing when the metal bites into his wrists. Then he does it again, and again.

Stacker moves to stop him but pauses when Cheung turns, desperate tears in his eyes. "You wanted me, right? Just me? So it's not a problem if-- if someone goes back to help them?"

Not an escape, then; Stacker says nothing, but he discreetly seals the train car's other doors. Cheung gives up on pleading for help, but he goes back to beating his fists against the window. He's scrawny-- even a trained marine would have trouble putting a crack in the reinforced glass.

It'll be an hour before Cheung gives up, face splotchy and red, probably having some trouble breathing through dry, heaving sobs. His hands are a mess, skin on his knuckles turned back and bloody welts on his wrists. Stacker has no trouble enduring that but when Cheung sits, back to the wall and face hidden behind his arms, thin shoulders shuddering with each breath, the only thing Stacker can think of is little Mako. Three years old, crying for her mother and father in the burning wreckage of her village--

Stacker covers his fist in an ice shell, strides to the window and shatters it in one blow. Cheung looks up at him.

"Are you calm?"

Silence.

"Listen," Stacker says, reaching for Cheung's cuffs and snapping them easily. "I can't tell you whether or not your brothers are still alive. But if you go back for them, you will be killed. If you live, you may have a chance at taking your revenge. If you die, then they'll never be at peace."

Cheung's eyes narrow, somehow threatening even swollen and red. Stacker sees plenty of hate in his line of work, the depths of it often a little disconcerting even to him. The boy's expression isn't new-- nothing but rage and helplessness on his face but he shifts his stance, gaze darting to the window behind him. That combination of calculation and cunning isn't quite as common.

"Do you understand me?" asks Stacker, voice deep and quiet. "Go. Survive, if you can. If you cross my path again, I won't be so kind."

* * *

Ten years later, a hulking silhouette shifts in the shadowy doorway, gears clicking and humming with each movement. Mako clenches her fists and winds up; Cheung puts a hand on the hilt of his sword and prepares to draw. It's been a decade since he'd last set foot on Water7, the junkyard he grew up in as much of a mess as it's always been. There's a new crowd squatting where he used to live with Tom and Iceburg and his brothers; he's never actually brought it up to Mako or anyone else, but clearing out the trash is hardly a high order.

"Wait," the shape says, sounding shocked. That voice is deeper than Cheung remembers, but another one joins it, annoyed 'What?' with an inflection so familiar Cheung nearly drops his sword.

He doesn't, though-- only sheathes it, straightens, raises his arms, palms out. Mako takes his cue and relaxes. Swallowing a lump in his throat and staunchly avoiding eye contact with his captain, Cheung throws a line and tries not to get his hopes up. "Hey," he says, "what kind of trouble are you idiots getting into now?"

The shape splits. Two people step forward, into the light-- "Cheung?"

Hu closes in first, all hostility forgotten to press one metallic hand against Cheung's chest, as if feeling for his heartbeat. "They said they executed you."

Mako looks at them, a bit alarmed, but she backs away when Jin throws his arms around Cheung's neck. She'd never asked about his past, so maybe the entire exchange makes no sense to her, but he makes a note to explain later. He takes a shaky breath, pulling Jin against him and reaching for Hu. "I... got away. I heard you both died."

"We spread that around to stay under the government's radar." Jin's not wearing a shirt, every plate riveted to his body clear in the daylight, long scars stretched over his chest and ribs. His right arm melds into a barrel, robotic hand on the end clenching as he pulls away from Cheung. He has one good eye, the other replaced by a yellow lens secured over its socket. "If we'd known you were still--"

"It's in the past," Cheung interrupts, dragging Hu into a tight hug. "Are you alright? Have you-- have you been eating well? Are you taking care of yourselves? You're watching out for each other?"

"Jerk," Hu answers against his chest, "that's what we wanted to ask you. Who's got your back, huh?"

Cheung tries not to think about his youngest brother's scars, as if he'd had to sew enormous pieces of his own skin back together-- matching cannons on both arms, in the same style as Jin's. Nearly the entire right side of his torso has been replaced with metal plates, no pulse through his back under Cheung's palm but a steady tick where his heart used to be. "I've been... fine."

"You got lost again, huh?" Jin laughs, still in disbelief. "And it took you ten years to find your way back to us?"

"Yeah," Cheung answers distantly, shaking his head. He keeps both hands on his brothers, but quickly brings the conversation back to business. "Lost. Hey, listen-- one of our crewmates is missing. Do you know where she might've gone? She's got a big bounty, Sasha Kaidanovsky."

"She's one of yours?" They look at each other again, Jin canting his head in the direction of the town square. "We don't have her, but one of our guys saw her with CP agents earlier. Maybe you should let 'em go, for your own sake."

"I suggested it, but."

"She's our navigator," Mako says firmly. "I'm not letting her go. I won't lose another crewmate here."

"I have to go," Cheung mutters, reluctant to even say it, "but I'll be back. We need to-- we need to catch up."

"Quit being stupid," Jin snaps, looking irritated. "Do you really think we're gonna let you wander off on your own again?"

"Yeah," says Hu, interrupting Cheung before he can tell them how dangerous it would be. "We're obviously coming. If you get lost again, who knows when we'll see you."

* * *

"Look," Jin crows later, hours after the adrenaline of their escape from Enies Lobby’s worn off. He flips the tip of his index finger back, a concentrated flame spitting from the stump. "Welder!" 

When he directs the flame toward Hu's metal shoulder plate, he gets smacked away. Cheung musters a smile but mostly looks nauseous, hand reaching for the limb but then dropping halfway.

"Aw," Hu says quietly, elbowing Jin in the ribs and gesturing toward his oldest brother, "c'mon, you're upsetting him. He looks like he's gonna cry."

"I'm not gonna cry."

"Aah-- sorry, sorry. I just thought you'd think it was cool."

"It's cool," Cheung answers miserably.

Jin purses his lips, covers the torch and leans forward, flashing his eye-lens. "But?"

"Why won't you tell me what happened?"

"We're alive and you're alive," Hu deflects immediately, "isn't that what matters?"

Cheung frowns. "We can't go back to how things were. I want to know how to make things easier for you two."

"Our lives are already easier than yours, bro." Jin wiggles his fingers. "No pain receptors!"

That turns out to be exactly the wrong thing to say; Jin repeats the words in his mind at Cheung's sudden pallor, then immediately shuffles forward and rubs his palm in apologetic circles between his brother's shoulder blades. Hu grimaces.

Plucking Hu's hand off the table, Cheung squeezes his fingers, brows drawing together at the creak of metal. "Can you feel this? Be honest with me, I promise I won't cry. I haven't cried in years."

"We have sensors so pressure and temperature readings aren't a problem," he answers gently. The younger brothers exchange a look, Hu taking a deep breath before he continues, pulling Cheung's hand to the back of his neck and placing it there. "Nothing like real touch, though. Can feel this, a couple other places are fine too. Jin's left arm, our legs, some of my left side."

Cheung squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing hard. "It should've been me."

"You would've died," Hu sighs, hissing through his teeth as he scoots toward Cheung and leans against his side, the flesh part of his upper arm brushing against his ribs. "We only lived because Jin still had a good arm, and we could patch each other up."

"If it was you," Jin points out, "you definitely would've died. You were never any good at robotics."

"Still."

"You think we'd rather have both our arms and eyes or whatever instead of you?" Jin uses his good arm to shake Cheung's shoulder, fingers digging bruises into his skin through the material of his shirt. "We're cyborgs! And you're alive. There's nothing to regret, especially the cyborg part."

"What happened?" Cheung asks again, this time catching and holding Jin's eye. "If you don't want to relive it, that's fine, but we never hid things from each other. Are we strangers, or are we brothers?"

"We actually kinda like telling this story to other people," Jin concedes at last, sighing deeply. "We tried to stop the train and we... you know how there's always junk ships floating by? We managed to get on one, then used the scraps to fix each other. Found a doctor and a mechanic in St. Poplar, they figured the rest out off what we had so far. We kept upgrading, once everything was functional."

Distantly, "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because it would've hurt you!" Hu yells, then immediately dials back his volume, eyes set on a bed across the room as he pulls his arms across his chest. "You always think you're the only one who should suffer just because you were born a few minutes earlier than us. We're triplets, you ass, we protect each other." He sneaks a look at Cheung, who's covered his eyes with one hand and bitten down on his bottom lip. Voice cracking, Hu continues, "Shit, bro, you promised you wouldn't cry."

"Shut up," Cheung gasps, not budging even when they try to pull his hand away from his face. "With everything you went through, how can you two be worried about hurting me?"

"You thought we were dead for ten years," Jin counters, voice pitching about two octaves higher than normal and breaking into a sob every few words. "You don't think you've hurt enough? Do you really think that-- that us becoming cyborgs was worse than being alone all this time?"

Hu breaks in before Cheung can protest, managing to keep his voice even though his face doesn't look much better than Jin's, tears streaming down both their faces. "You're so selfish, bro, we love robots. It hasn't been hard at all." A loud sniff. "Trying to act like you had it so much better than us when you were the one suffering the most."

Cheung looks at them through the gaps in his fingers, sniffs and scrubs at his eyes. "Some things never change, huh," he laughs, watery and breathless when both brothers tackle him backwards, spitefully piling their weight on top of him. "You guys are such crybabies."


End file.
